In Sickness
by cloismagic
Summary: In sickness and in health… Harvey and Donna navigate through an unexpected hurdle in their relationship.


**AN: This story was the death of me, I almost can't believe I finally finished it. Alas, here it is. I hope you all enjoy, and it makes you smile. Happy readings! **

…

He enters his apartment with a tired sigh, shutting the door softly behind him. He trudges toward his- _their- _bedroom with every intention of plopping down beside her, pulling her body against his until her presence alone lulls him into a deep sleep.

She'd left work earlier than him, and to his surprise, with little to no debate. He knew she was as tired as he was, possibly more, taking on the bulk of responsibilities of the firm that week, with Faye breathing down their necks while he tried to settle a case of his own.

As he nears the bedroom, a grin stretches across his tired face, hearing the shower running. He's not too upset to forgo his plans of passing out for the night, if it meant jumping into a hot shower with his favorite redhead.

He sheds his jacket, slipping off his shoes as the words fall easily off his tongue, "I hope you haven't been in there that long," he loosens his tie, stepping into the large bathroom, "and if you _have… _I'm still coming in."

He stops short when he makes it inside, finding Donna, hair wet and clad in a towel- wrapped loosely around her- standing in front of the mirror.

"What the-"

His girlfriend freezes, meeting his eyes through the mirror, a panicked expression meeting his shocked one.

"Harvey," the second his name falls of her lips, the shower faucet turns off, but their eyes remain peeled on each other.

"Donna," her name is a painful question and a plead all in one, throat closing up as the glass shower door slides open.

He can't look, can't find the energy nor will to move a muscle, feet firmly planted on the bathroom tiles' floor, and he wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole.

She turns around, "I can-"

"Don't," Harvey grinds out, vision blurring as he catches Thomas slowly grabbing a towel in the corner of his eye.

"Harvey,"

He turns to the man still standing in _his _shower, towel draped across his mid-section, water droplets falling from his chiseled chest. He wants to turn to him, punch the look right off this face, but he can't. He's paralyzed, nauseous. The air around them grows hotter by the second, constricting his airway and he feels like he could pass out on the spot.

Donna tries reaching out, barely gets to touch his hands before he flinches, feeling a numbing and tingling sensation on the tips of his fingers. He clenches and unclenches his hands, the view of Donna's own pained expression in front of him turning murky.

"Harvey, please…"

Her voice is a mere echo now, deeper and more pained, but he strains in an effort to hear her attenuating words. To no avail, she fades into nothingness before him. His heart compresses and his breath shortens, feeling his body breaking out into a cold sweat.

He's having a panic attack.

"_Harvey,"_

His eyes squeeze shut, head throbbing to an unbearable level. His body begins to sink to the ground, knees giving out as all of his senses continue to shut down, one by one.

"_Harvey," _he feels Donna's hands reaching out as she worriedly grabs hold of him. Before he can process anything else, his world goes completely dark.

…

"_Harvey!"_

He wakes with a start, body shooting up on their bed.

"_Jesus,_ Harvey," Donna reaches out on instinct, one hand on his forearm the other cupping his face. "Hon, you're burning up."

Neither notice the moniker that had slipped out of her lips, Harvey panting his nightmare away, while Donna was too busy concerned with the heat emitting from his skin.

"I-," Harvey breathes out, blinking against the darkness of his room. He shakes his head, turning to look at her. "You were with him."

She doesn't bother asking who, it doesn't matter, not when he's undoubtedly catching a fever and having trouble breathing beside her.

"You've soaked through the sheets," Donna answers instead, feeling the white cotton beneath her cold and wet to the touch, his bare chest glistening with the guidance of the moonlight peeking through the curtains.

"'m fine," he mumbles, trying to catch his breath, taking whatever comfort he could having her near him, telling himself _it was just a goddamn dream._

A _nightmare, _he mentally corrects himself, shaking his head of the mental pictures he wishes never to see again. The movement makes him wince, reaching up a hand to rub at his temples.

"Your head hurts?" He feels more than hears her question, voice low yet filled with a level of concern he's selfishly honing in, keeping the words close to his chest as a gentle reminder that she's _here, _with _him, _and she's not going anywhere.

"I- it was just a dream," he says instead, seemingly in a daze.

Donna purses her lips, half annoyed, half worried to her wits end all thanks to her boyfriend's stubbornness. Even with the faded light of the room, she could tell he looked pale. Plus, it was _her, _and it was _him. _She seldom didn't know when something was wrong with him. And despite the fact that she's rarely seen him actually sick, there wasn't a doubt in her mind that he wasn't okay.

"I'm getting you a thermometer, stay here, okay?" She gently guides her hands to his chest, and she was glad he took onto her wordless command to rest up against the headboard.

It didn't take her long to find it, wedged behind a bottle of Tylenol at the bottom of his bathroom's medicine cabinet. She pauses before returning to the bedroom, grabbing the small bottle of pain relief along with the electronic thermometer. At the very least, it could help prevent his fever from spiking, she hoped.

Turning around, Donna almost bumps head on with Harvey, who was making a beeline for the toilet.

It all happened in a blur, Harvey running inside, sliding down the floor to reach the porcelain before he started emptying out the contents of his stomach. It didn't take long for Donna to react, placing the objects in her hand on the bathroom counter, crouching down to place a hand on his back.

She winces, hearing him lurching and gasping, as if in pain. She felt helpless in the moment, but still she rubs soothing circles on his bare back, combing back his hair even after he was done.

"You're okay," she hears herself saying, hoping that her words would come to fruition. She knew he _wasn't _okay, was far from it, but she had to act like the stronger one in the moment, couldn't fall victim to her own fears and the worry lodged behind her heart watching him like this.

"I bet that was attractive," Harvey groans when he finally pulls back, reaching a weak hand to grab a handful of toilet paper. With eyes closed, he wipes his mouth, trying to breathe through the fading nausea.

"Babe…" Donna sighs. It wasn't enough that she hated seeing him like this: weak, pale, _clearly in pain but not willing to admit it._

"I'm fine, Donna," the words come out slurred and slow, completely contradicting them. She rolls her eyes, if anything to tamper down the concern crawling through her skin. She finds an ivory hand towel hanging near the vanity, wetting the cloth with cold water before bringing it to Harvey's face, gently dabbing his skin.

"I think we should go see a doctor."

"What? _No," _Harvey's eyes shoot open, immediately regretting it when a sharp pain pulls at his temples. He sighs, closing his hand around her wrist, ceasing her movements. "Donna, I'm-"

"If you say _'fine' _I'm gonna forward those pictures I took of you yesterday to Louis."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

He would laugh if it weren't for the throbbing in his head worsening by the second, or the way her eyes gave off just how worried she was.

"You didn't even check my temperature," he murmurs the next second, a lame excuse, he knew.

Donna raises an eyebrow, depositing the towel and replacing it with the thermometer she had searched for earlier. "Yeah, that was before you regurgitated tonight's dinner."

He winces, "Ugh, please don't say words like _regurgitate _right now."

She wordlessly gets to work, placing the too-fancy thermometer in his ear, waiting for the device to beep before pulling it out.

"So, am I dying?" He quips when he sees her analyzing the reading.

"Not yet," she sasses. She turns it around, letting him see the numbers flashing in a neon green.

_101.2°F_

"That means I'm off the hook, right?"

"That means we're going to the urgent care. _Now."_

"_Donna…"_

"_Harvey!" _

He's taken aback for a second, watching with weary eyes how she hovers over him, auburn curls fanning over her face, barely masking the fear in her eyes. He feels any remaining nausea drain out of him, her sudden outburst snapping him into reality.

Donna sighs then, and he guesses it's in an effort not to strangle him then and there. Even _he _knew he was being a stubborn ass.

"You're _sick, _Harvey. You may not be on your death bed, but you're sure as hell not in any shape to stay home, let alone hope to sleep it off in time for tomorrow."

He opens his mouth to protest, though he doesn't know what he would say if he was being completely honest with himself. He just really, _really _hated hospitals. Before he could utter a syllable, she's pointing a finger at him, not quite as steady as her voice, however.

"If it were me sitting where you are, you'd be calling the damn ambulance if not picking me up and carrying me yourself to see the nearest doctor in the city."

That shut him up, closing his mouth as a sign of defeat. He didn't know what to feel when she didn't look pleased, didn't smirk or sass him away like before. It only worried _him _more, and not for his own sake, because she was feeling uneasy and he was the goddamn reason for it. Plus, he knew she was right. He wouldn't hesitate to usher her out of the apartment if the situation was reversed, whether or not she was kicking and screaming in protest.

"Okay," he says at last.

Donna lets out a heavy breath, pushing her hair back with a tired hand as she stands up. "Do you need help getting dressed?" She reaches out her hand, helping him up from his position on the tiled floor.

He shakes his head, swallowing a quip he had at the ready. It's that look in her eyes that makes him think twice, that makes him refocus for _her _sake, and he answers with as much steadiness he could muster. "I'll be okay."

She knows he means more than being able to dress himself, that he's reassuring her in his own way that she shouldn't worry so much. She nods in return, waning out a small smile he mirrors before he turns to leave, but not before giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

It's only when he's back in his bedroom, rummaging through his drawers for what she guesses to be a pair of sweats and a sweater, does she take a moment for herself.

Breathing out a slow breath, she blinks back the unexpected tears she'd been holding at bay. _"Harvey Specter, I swear you're going to be the cause of my death someday."_

…

The drive to the urgent care is mostly spent in silence, with Harvey dozing off in the passenger seat, barely aware of Donna's worried glances every so often. She had opted to drive herself, deciding that she didn't want to wake up Ray at three o'clock in the morning. That, and she knew in her hurried state, she didn't have the patience to wait for someone else, be it Ray or a cab driver.

By the time they're inside, Donna's ushering a groggy Harvey to sit down in one of the waiting room's plastic chairs as she tends to the receptionist. She eyes him for a moment, face pale and dark eyes drooping, but lacking the same level of nausea he experienced earlier. She turns to the receptionist, mustering her most polite smile before signing Harvey in.

She returns to Harvey's side in under a minute, clipboard in hand with a collection of papers to fill.

"I hate hospitals," Harvey grumbles, hand supporting his head on the armrest.

Donna chortles, "Then it's a good thing you're not in one."

Harvey sighs, eyeing the room that surrounded them as he settles closer to Donna. It was smaller than your average ER, less bustling with just three other families around. It was more like a regular clinic than an actual hospital. But still…

"Doesn't make me feel better," he winces under the fluorescent lights and bleak walls.

Donna stops writing mid-address, taking a breath before sending him a look.

Harvey feels her stare, deflating immediately, "Right, I'm sorry, I just-"

"You know I'm not doing this to torture you, right?" It was more of a statement than a question, but still he nodded, gently caressing her sweatshirt covered arm with a hand.

"I know, I'm being an asshole."

Donna cranes her neck, furrowing her brows before placing her hand on his forehead, "I think your fever might have spiked."

Harvey rolls his eyes, a slight quirk of the lips diluting the playful way he shoos her hand away, eliciting the first smile he's seen on her tonight. She settles into continuing with the files in front of her then, years of being his second in command and best friend making the process easy. She fills out most of the information with confidence and second nature, only pausing when she gets to the second page.

Harvey, who was leaning over her, mindlessly watching her filling out the information, knits his forehead, "You know that's you, right? My emergency contact?"

Donna chuckles softly, gently tapping his hand with the pen she held, "I know, it's just-"

Harvey's eyes follow her gaze, and they immediately relax when he notices where her mind had settled.

_Relation to the patient._

"What options does it give you?" He plays along.

"It's fill in the blank, Harvey, not a multiple choice exam."

"Then why-"

"Am I your girlfriend? Or-"

The conversation from about a week ago comes rushing back into his mind, albeit it's a little foggy in his current state, but he remembers the important parts of it.

"_You know we're gonna be together forever, right?"_

"_So, we're engaged then?"_

It amazed him how effortless- despite their momentous stuttering- that conversation had gone. After years of suppressed emotions and feelings left unsaid, they'd come to a mutual understanding that they were it for each other, and it was just a matter of _when _he would pop the question, not _if._

The ring he'd bought weeks ago was hiding in the back of his sock drawer, begging to be taken out of its confines and presented to his one and only. He knew she was going to say _'yes'_, but he was still mentally working out the kinks of the _when_ and _where _and _how_. And it was _Donna_… despite his teases, it had to be perfect.

So, he realizes now, with their conversation and his inability to ask her the inevitable question, they had settled in this weird bubble.

"I thought we- agreed, that we weren't engaged. Not until I officially asked." It felt weird- the fact that it _didn't _feel weird to have this conversation with her, knowing she wasn't going to run screaming, and they were more on the same page with the course of their relationship. But it was still foreign, being able to communicate so freely, sans emotional walls.

"It's really not a big deal, Harvey," she says at last, giving him a reassuring yet tired smile, "It just kind of threw me off, but if we want to get out of here any time soon, I have to finish the _War and Peace_ of medical papers, so," Donna settles back, the plastic behind her squeaking with her movement.

Harvey watches as she scribbles down the word _girlfriend _in the blank space, but it's only when she gets to the 'f' does he snap out of it, taking hold of her wrist to stop her, "Wait."

"Harvey, what-"

It felt wrong to him somehow, _weird, _almost- disrespectful. In the weeks they'd been together, he'd never directly referred to her as his girlfriend, and even though others did just that and he never corrected them, it felt beneath them, what they were. She was so much more than that. But he never felt the need to label them; she was his and he was hers, they were partners in every sense of the word. But since their last conversation about marriage had been rolling around his head….

"Write 'fiancée.'"

Donna blinks, eyes wide and face stock with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment.

"What-"

"Write '_fiancée'," _he states easier this time, eyes bright despite the tiredness trying to consume him.

Donna shakes her head, a crooked smile on her lips as she turns to face him better, "If _this _is how you propose-"

"I'm not proposing," _yet, _his moment of silence fills for him, "but… you're more than just my girlfriend, Donna."

"But this is-"

"Big, I know."

She stares at him for a while, wise eyes trying to get a better read on him. But with the combination of her worried state, the lack of sleep, and his frustrating ability to render her speechless… it's making the otherwise organized wires in her brain to cross.

"If this is just the fever talking-"

"It's not," he reassures quickly, taking hold of her hand in his, letting his body heat translate to hers.

Donna narrows her eyes, trusting her heart to go with her gut._ He was sincere. _And he wasn't feeling as warm as he was earlier.

"Fiancée…."

"Fiancée," Harvey nods to confirm.

Donna takes a breath, willing her heart to settle as she tries to focus her attention on the paper in front of her again. She feels his eyes on her, knows his cheeks stretch into that goofy of a grin she's been seeing more of lately as she scratches out the beginning of '_girlfriend'._

She gives herself credit for not letting her hand shake as she writes down the new word- her new position in his life, albeit inevitable and forthcoming, still startling to comprehend.

When she looks back up at him, he's got his eyes set on her, soft and sure, no ounce of trepidation or regret, questions or fear. It was a Harvey Specter she was still getting used to, a Harvey Specter that's still got all the charm and heart she always knew he had, but with a gentle confidence in _them _that makes all the hairs on her arms stand on end.

"You really never cease to surprise me," she murmurs.

"Funny, I was gonna say the same thing about you."

Donna chuckles, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, "Okay, Casanova, let me focus on this if we ever want to make it out in time for the wedding." She feels his entire body stiffen then, doesn't even have to look at him to know her words made him forget how to breathe, even if just for a moment. She smirks to herself, knowing she always ended with the upper hand. Eventually, he relaxes next to her, head leaning on her shoulder as her words finally settle in his heart, lulling him into a submissive state.

"You better hurry up, then, Paulsen," he yawns, "If you ever want to become a 'Specter'."

…

"Please don't say it," he grumbles beside her, using her support to help guide him to the car. It was already light out by the time they exited the urgent care, the rising noises from the city slowly meeting their ears, "Please don't say 'I told you so'."

Donna bites her lip, stifling a laugh. Despite the exhaustion that only kept seeping in, and the fact that Harvey started feeling worse by the time the doctor was ready to see them- a little over an hour after their arrival- she felt her own anxiety slipping.

After the doctor had inspected Harvey, his wise eyes and confident voice were enough to reassure Donna that her- _fiancé- _would be okay.

"I didn't say anything."

"_Yet," _Harvey mumbles beside her, close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her ear.

She rolls her eyes, "You have the flu, Harvey, what did you expect? Mono?"

"Would've been more interesting," he sighs as they approach his car. They take a moment to settle against the black Lexus, Harvey leaning against the passenger door as Donna settles her hands on his chest.

"You're just lucky I was with you when you woke up in a cold sweat, otherwise I would've had to deal with a sick Harvey at work, moaning and complaining, because even though you'd felt like shit, you would've been stubborn enough _not _to admit it and go home. And you would've gotten worse," she finishes the last part with a sterner voice, her earlier worries creeping up again.

"I feel fine," he sheepishly tries to excuse, droopy eyes barely focusing on hers.

She cocks her head to the side, "You should've gotten the flu shot when I told you to," she ignores the way he opens his mouth in protest, a mumbled _"I asked you not to say it," _coming from him as she gently ushers him inside, only closing the door when he was buckled in.

By the time she settles in the driver's seat, she notices his eyes are closed, head leaning against the window, but his breathing hadn't deepened yet, and she knew he was still awake.

She normally loves to watch him sleep, relishes in the mornings- _which is most of them- _when she wakes up before him, gets to watch his chest rise and fall, place a gentle hand over his chest to feel his heart beating. But in a moment like this, seeing his usual slightly toned skin paler than usual, bags under his eyes heavier, hair mussed not from lazy sex, but from hours of feeling sick… it tugged at her heart.

Despite the fact that she knew he was going to be okay, taking the doctor's words to mend her mind's negative impulses, knowing the prescription folded neatly in her purse was going to help him feel better in days' time… it still _hurt _to see him this way. Weak. Vulnerable. Two things Harvey Specter was not, two things she never wants to see from him again.

Taking a breath, she starts the engine, buckles herself in, and reaches over to put the car in reverse. Before her hand could shift the gear, she feels his hand reaching out, stopping her movements.

"I am, you know," he mutters, eyes still closed.

"What?" She asks in a soft voice.

"Lucky. That you were there. Here. To have you."

Donna swallows the lump she'd try so hard to suppress the last few hours, grateful that his closed eyes couldn't see the way hers were watering. She slowly smiles, ignoring a lone tear that makes its way down her cheek as she gives his hand a squeeze.

"Try to get some rest, Harvey. I'll wake you up when we get home."

…

After a quick stop at the pharmacy to pick up Harvey's prescription, they finally make their way to his apartment. With Harvey trudging behind her, Donna unlocks the door, cellphone cradled beneath her ear.

"Thank you, Louis. You're a Godsend," she ignores the incredulous look Harvey sends her way, ushering him inside with a wave of her hand.

"What's the verdict?" Harvey asks as soon as Donna hangs up, sitting on his couch's armrest.

"We're covered."

"Faye…?" he tentatively asks. After the ordeal with Samantha and Mike- as well as every other hindrance they've had to deal with- everyone was walking on eggshells, if only to keep the peace as long as the odious woman was there.

Donna smirks, leaning against the countertop, "Louis told her we _both _had the flu. She freaked out and thought it would _'benefit the firm's standing'_ if we stayed home. In other words, stay away so we don't infect anyone in her new making of _Little House of Horrors_."

"Is it bad that I _want _to go to work, just to get her sick so she wouldn't have to come in for a while? Possibly- never?"

Donna chuckles, glad to see Harvey's normal coloring was slowly returning. Despite his obvious grogginess and fatigue, the waves of nausea seemed to have subsided for the time being, granting him with a little more energy. "Is it bad that I was thinking the same?"

Harvey mirrors her, his laugh turning into a cough he tries ignoring, "I like my women bad."

Donna rolls her eyes at his attempt at flirting while under the weather. She grabs the bottle of antibiotics from her purse, opening the fridge to grab a water bottle before walking towards him.

"And I like _you _healthy and not keeling over. I'm sorry to break it to you, Harvey, but pale green is not your color," she playfully winces, handing him both items.

Harvey sighs, cringing out of habit as he takes the meds from her hand, popping a pill and taking a swing of water all at once.

"I feel like a child."

"You sure keep acting like one."

They share a look, glares matching until Harvey breaks first, thanks to a yawn. "'time is it anyway?"

"Time for you to get your cute little butt back to bed, mister," she places the bottles on the coffee table, reaching back to grab hold of his hand, the other feeling his forehead for any noticeable change in temperature. She sighs in relief when he feels only slightly warm to the touch. Before she could drag him away, however, he's reeling her in, using the last ounce of energy he has to hold her to him, her slender figure placed between his legs.

"I wanna stay here."

"You can't walk ten feet to your room?" She quips, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Harvey pouts, a petulant child-like look crossing his features, "It's too far and you're here."

Donna bites her lip, suddenly getting a flash of him from just a few hours earlier- waking up in a cold sweat, mumbling something about a dream he had, no doubt driving his illness to fruition.

"I can't carry you."

"You calling me big?"

Donna narrows her eyes, knowing she was treading a fine line with a sleepy and sick Harvey, soon to be hyped up on drugs in his already needy and stubborn state. "I'm calling you stubborn, now, _come on," _in an attempt to pull him toward what she now considered to be their bedroom, she underestimates his current strength, making his own pull stronger and she ends up falling into his arms.

A squeal of surprise leaves her, making him chuckle. In a slow blur, they tumble back onto the couch, a heap of limps curled into the corner of the black leather.

"_Harvey!" _She slaps his chest, gaping at his toothy grin, eyes beginning to dull with exhaustion, and she wonders how the hell he's still awake, let alone functioning.

"Told you," he yawns, trying to settle them into a more comfortable position, "want you here."

Out of a habit that's been getting harder to shake off, she rolls her eyes. Knowing she was bound to give in- if only for the fact that she knew she was near helpless when it came to a sick Harvey- she pats her lap, motioning for him to lie down. Without much of a reaction, he yawns again, curling into the side as his head meets her cotton clad lap, hand scrunching up the material of her leggings as his eyes begin to close.

"Fine," she sighs, beginning to slowly caress his short strands, "only because I'm too tired to continue arguing."

"'Mmkay."

Donna quirks her lips, shaking her head as she basks in getting to witness this side of him. Not the sick part, but the soft, stripped down from all corporate habits portion.

She closes her eyes then too, hands still lost in the strands of his hair. Her caresses continue to lull him into a deep sleep, and his presence alone- knowing he was _okay- _allowed her to finally succumb to sleep.

…

It's a series of coughs that startle her awake. She blinks away the sleep as a yawn seeps out, looking down to her lap to study an uncomfortable looking Harvey.

"Hey, you okay?" She gently places her hand on his cheek, eyes filled with concern as he finally settles.

"Yeah," he croaks out, coughing one last time before he blinks up to stare into her gaze, "cough woke me up."

"That makes two of us," Donna quips softly. She pats his forehead on reflex, grateful to feel him no warmer than he was earlier.

He settles on her lap again, eyes closing once more, "Did you sleep?"

Donna cranes her neck to check the time above the stove top, "Barely," she muses, noting it had been just under an hour. She still felt groggy, the combination of an interrupted sleep and worrying about Harvey all morning taking its toll on her. "How you feeling?"

Harvey shrugs on the spot, "Okay, I guess."

"Harvey…." Her tone takes him back to a couple hours ago, when she barked at him to go to the urgent care, but it's less demanding, more in warning.

"I have a little headache, and my throat feels like sandpaper, but I'm okay."

She purses her lips, tries to let his words comfort her as well as his gentle hold on her thigh, "What about your stomach? You've barely eaten."

Harvey winces, "Don't feel like it."

"You heard what the doctor said, you have to try. Not pushing it doesn't mean not eating for the remainder of the day, you're only going to get worse otherwise."

He blinks up at her again, feeling both weak and safe in her presence. He felt like shit, truth be told, albeit better than when he first woke up, and he knows she can see right through him. But he didn't feel like moving from his position. He felt relaxed, content. Exhausted.

"I'll eat," he yawns, patting her leg as if to reassure, "Just- not yet."

"And you have to drink a lot of fluids," she continues, voice carrying on a touch of concern, "you want me to get you something? More water or juice or-"

"_Donna,"_

She blinks down at him, her- _fiancé. _Hair mussed as a result of the scalp massage she'd given him, eyes onyx from fatigue, but lips quirked up in that charming asshole way that gets her riled up every damn time.

"I'm fine, I promise," he murmurs again, "I'm exhausted and I'm not going to be running a marathon for a while, but can we just- lay here for a bit?"

She narrows her eyes, "You sure do look comfy."

He chuckles, playing with the cotton against her skin, "You make a good pillow."

"Oh yeah? Did you sleep better this time around? No more crazy flu-elicited dreams?"

His eyes pop open, mouth gaping before closing it again. He should be unsurprised; she was bound to ask about his middle of the night wakeup call- the dream he only vaguely mentioned.

"Right…"

"Harvey, something you want to share with the class?" She only prods gently, hand caressing his face, tracing the two moles above his eye in an effort to make him feel relaxed, undoubtedly seeing how much this was making him feel uncomfortable.

"It was dumb," he sighs, not showing signs of continuing.

"Talk to me, Harv."

Her soft voice and his shortened name on her lips makes him stare up at her, letting her sudden calmness reach him, and he heaves out a heavy breath, "It's nothing, I-" he runs a hand through his face, gathering himself to revisit the dream he didn't want to ever think about, "I came home, here, I heard the shower, assumed it was you…"

His momentary pause causes her own hand to cease, stopping right on the curvature of his jaw, "Go on."

"I- walked into the bathroom, but you were standing there, you looked- surprised. Caught," he feels her squeezing his shoulder, and he knew she knew where his story was heading, "The shower stopped running and… Thomas walked out."

There's a pregnant pause, the apartment turning still as Harvey avoids eye contact with Donna but remaining in the same position on her lap.

"You're right," Donna murmurs seconds later, resuming her gentle touches, "that _was _dumb."

Harvey turns back to her, "I know you would never-"

"I know," she quickly confirms.

He sighs then, rubbing away at his tired eyes. "Have I mentioned how much I hate being sick?"

Donna smirks, playfully poking his nose, "You might've mentioned it."

"I'm fine though, really. It was just a shit dream I hope I never have again… I don't even know why I had it. It's not like I'm insecure about us, or think that you would ever do that, because I _know _you won't. I just-"

"_Harvey," _

"What?"

"It's okay," she chuckles, "You don't have to explain your dream to me. And frankly, after everything we've been through, I think it would be a little weird if we _didn't _have dreams like that."

He raises his brow, "You have dreams like that too?"

Donna shrugs, "Not _exactly _like that, but sure, I've had a few unpleasant dreams I'd very much like to not think about _ever _again."

"Really? And what helps you forget about them?"

She gives him a cheeky smile, "Waking up next to you… getting a quick morning workout before heading to work."

Harvey grins, so full and wide that it makes her momentarily forget he's been sick, "I'm glad I can help you forget."

She bites her lip, selfishly wishing he wasn't sick just so he could help her fulfill a need only he could provide. "That's not the only way," she softly adds after a moment.

He shoots her a questioning glance, inviting her to continue, "I prefer to focus on… the more pleasant dreams I have about you."

His asshole of a smirk returns, eyebrows waggling, making her laugh out loud.

"Easy there, tiger. Not _those _kinds of dreams," she pauses for a moment, "Well… not _only _those kinds of dreams."

"What other kinds of dreams?"

Donna looks down for a second, feeling suddenly shy- exposed. When she looks back into his eyes, he's patiently waiting for her to continue, and she expels a calming breath as she reminds herself where they are in life. He's promised her forever, they've talked about marriage, making them engaged- to be engaged. But still, it's all so new, and there's been a few things they've yet to talk about….

"I- well, I dream about our wedding," she admits softly, wiling herself not to turn into a stumbling idiot like she had before.

"Yeah?" His eyes are brighter than before, curiosity and wonder peeking through, urging her to resume.

She nods, "Sometimes… there's always different versions of it. Some of them a little weirder than others. You were in a cat suit once and turned into Louis."

Harvey expels a heavy laugh, quickly turning into a series of coughs, "Jesus, Donna, you trying to kill me?"

She rolls her eyes, gently patting his back as his coughs die down, "I don't control my dreams, Harvey."

"God, I hope not," he teases. "Anything else?"

Donna bites her lip again, a habit that's quickly formed in the wake of any situation where she feels a foreign feeling of shyness, "Kids."

She says it so softly he has to ask to confirm, "Kids?"

Donna nods, letting herself smile through it, "Yeah," she shrugs, "sometimes it's a baby. Sometimes it's you, me, and a few little _uses_ running around…."

A slow smile creeps over his face, soft and bright all at once, "How many?"

"Two, sometimes three. Strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes with daddy's smile."

A breath catches in his throat, something akin to yearning and an unbearable desire making his chest tighten. It's only when a cough breaks out does he remember to breathe normally again.

Donna chuckles, "You okay?"

"Barely," he muses, sharing her smile, "You?"

She shrugs, "Honestly? Feeling a little overwhelmed lately."

"You think it's going too fast? Us?"

She can hear a slight concern in his voice, but she tries to tamper it down playfully, "I'm not pregnant yet, Harvey. And I'm currently taking care of one sick child here, so," she pokes his side.

He catches her hand before she can pull back, keeping a steady gaze on her, "Donna,"

"No," she reassures quietly, "It's not too fast. Just- overwhelming. But, a good overwhelming. Surreal," she adds after a beat.

Harvey nods, knowing all too well the feeling she was describing. He catches himself sometimes, waking up to just stare at her sleeping, even if it's the middle of the night and he has to be up early for work. When he's at his desk at the firm, on a deadline, and a wave of realization hits him again and again… they're finally where they're supposed to be.

No, it's definitely not too fast. Not when they've already wasted enough time apart.

"Life moves pretty fast…."

"You quoting Ferris Bueller to me?"

"The kid was right, although I'm feeling more like Cameron now…" he curls more into her, mindlessly caressing her waist.

"So, what, are you saying you want to get me pregnant?"

Harvey chokes out another laugh, albeit more freaked out, if she had to surmise, "Why? Do you _want _to get pregnant right now?"

Donna scoffs, "Well, no, not _right _now. I'm not going to conceive our kid when you have the flu, Harvey."

He rolls his eyes, "Not what I meant, and you know it."

She pauses, still overwhelmed and caught off guard by the nature of their current conversation. It was unreal, how they can just so _casually _have these conversations all the time- like any couple in a serious relationship would.

"Not… yet. I still don't even have a ring on my finger," she sasses.

"Patience…" he drawls out, jackass of a smirk covering up his ever-growing exhaustion.

"Says the _fiancé."_

Harvey groans then, shifting on the spot.

"What? Did I hit a nerve?"

"No," he grumbles as he begins to sit up, "Cramp."

Donna chuckles, ruffling his hair as he settles next to her, his hand immediately finding hers. "You make a good pillow, but my back hates this couch."

She hums in understanding, "Nice sage-way."

"I'm ready when you are," he tells her softly, seriously. He searches her eyes for any ounce of doubt or trepidation but comes out short.

She finds herself looking down at their hands, his right caressing her left, and her eyes find her ring finger, bare and waiting, empty. "So am I," she dares back at him, not shying away from his stare.

He smiles, "And the other thing…?"

"The _other _thing… can wait a little while," she pats him on the leg, getting up to make her way to the kitchen.

Harvey frowns, more amused than anything. He follows her movements, watching her taking out a box of oatmeal from a cabinet and a gallon of orange juice from the fridge. He slowly makes his way over to the counter, plopping himself down on a stool as she quietly prepares his lunch. Apparently, he had no say.

"You'd make a good mom, you know," he says when she starts to heat up the oatmeal, toying with the glass of now filled orange juice in front of him, "A great one, actually."

She pauses before him, hand clutching the spoon she just grabbed from a drawer. The cool metal numbs in her hand, her heart absorbing his words, letting them melt away any remaining barriers. "You think so?"

Harvey grins, nodding confidently, "You took care of one stubborn man-child today, so, I would say anything else would just be cake."

She matches his mirth, head shaking at his antics, "You _were _pretty stubborn."

"And you were great. Hot, actually. Like my own personal sexy nurse."

It's then that she rolls her eyes, turning to grab the now heated oatmeal from the microwave. "You're despicable."

She carefully places the hot plate in front of him, handing him the spoon in the process.

He grabs hold of her wrist, gently keeping her there, "And you're amazing. Really. I don't know if I ever mentioned it yet today, but… thank you. For being here. For taking care of me and dealing with my stubborn ass."

Donna smiles, grateful and more in love with this ridiculous man every damn day, "Always."

He lets her hand go after a beat, giving it one gentle squeeze before he focuses on the meal in front of him. His head shoots up at her, the beginning of a cringe forming on his lips after taking one good look of the oatmeal she presented him with.

Before he can say anything, however, Donna puts up a finger in warning, "I don't want to hear it. You're eating that."

"It looks like someone already did."

Donna crosses her arms, thinking a new strategy might have to do, "You don't want to upset your personal nurse, now do you?"

His eyes widen, surprised and unsure all at once, "I-"

She smirks, crossing over to the other side, "Maybe when you're feeling better, I can show you just how much I love taking care of you. That is, if you behave." She leaves him with a pat on the back, heading in the direction of their bedroom with an extra sway to her hips.

She doesn't have to turn around to know he ate the whole damn thing, burnt tongue be damned.

Yeah, he was feeling better already.

…

**As always, please let me know what you thought xo**


End file.
